What's Left Of Dally
by Jodiexxx
Summary: The night Johnny died, Dally cracked and tried to get himself killed. He failed and got arrested, spending the next few months in jail. When he got out, Ponyboy attempted getting him to watch a sunset, like Johnny had asked him to.


**I**

Dally brought the cigarette to his lips, taking a quick puff. Beside him, I was leaning against the back of the wooden park bench, staring up at the blue sky. Today it was flecked with several bits of white clouds, and the sun was nowhere in sight. I couldn't remember how long I'd been sitting here with him, savoring the peace and quiet in the park. I came across Dally while I was taking a stroll in the park, after I'd told Darry I was going out for some fresh air.

The atmosphere in my house had gotten a lot tenser ever since Johnny died. I couldn't come to terms with it at first, and I probably wouldn't if Dally hadn't tried to get himself killed by the fuzz. Two-Bit had leapt forward and sent the both of them crashing to the ground, when the cops had started firing at him. The gun Dally was holding was knocked to the side, and both of them got grazed with the bullets. The cops snatched the heater off the ground and found out it wasn't loaded, then immediately ceased firing. Their injuries were more superficial than deep, and only had to spend a few week in the hospital. Dally got arrested and spent a few months in jail, and only just got out today.

I was terrified when Two-Bit went lunging for him, scared for both their lives; what if they'd both been shot? But now that I was sitting next to Dally, I couldn't have been more grateful to Two-Bit if I tried. Johnny was already gone, and I didn't think I could take it if another member of our gang had managed to get himself dead. When I saw him at the lot, when I saw him pull out the gun, I almost got the wind knocked out of my lungs. The situation had been real; so real that it scared me. But then again, Dally was real – there wasn't an inch of a fairytale, an ounce of a dream or any hope in him – and this was what made me the most afraid.

I stole a short glimpse at Dally, who was staring blankly ahead of him, blowing out another smoke ring as he did so. Today was the first time I'd seen him since that day he'd gotten shot at the lot, and his appearance hadn't changed much. He hadn't said a word when I called out to him or sat down beside him. He hadn't spoken at all for the past few hours I had been sitting here. When I first called his name, he looked up from his hands at me, and nodded curtly. He didn't respond to anything else I said after. His jaw was clenched tightly, and the only thing about him I could safely say that had changed was that he looked grimmer and tougher than ever. Johnny's death hit him hard, like a large barrel of bricks.

I hadn't thought much about what Johnny had said to me before he passed away. I was too busy trying to keep my mind off his pale, sickly face from that fateful night, trying to throw myself into my studies and not to remember how bad he was getting, and how it was indirectly my fault that he'd died. Now, though, sitting beside the person Johnny had hero-worshipped for so long, it was impossible not to think about it. The vivid memory came flowing back into my mind easily enough, despite me trying to repress it for so long, and I visualized Johnny lying on the hospital bed in front of me, too weak to even manage a grin.

I swallowed hard, wishing for what must have been the millionth time that the memory wasn't true – it hadn't happened, and Johnny was still alive. I knew I was lying to myself. I always did.

_Stay gold, Ponyboy. Stay gold…_

I found the note Johnny had written to me in the book he had asked the nurse to pass to me. For the first few days after he'd gone, I couldn't stop reading the note, willing myself to make it disappear, to hope that it wasn't real and that none of it was. I had to be in a dream. Johnny couldn't have been dead. But he was.

Sunsets. He wanted me to ask Dally to look at one, to know that there was still lots of good in the world. _Tell Dally. I don't think he knows._

Johnny was most likely right. Dally couldn't see a bit of good in this world that we lived in. I doubted that he would even bother to try. But then I remembered what Johnny had wanted me to help him do, what he'd spent what was probably the last of his energy to write. I had to at least try to ask him. Just as I thought this, a strong, thick streak of orange began to make its way across the blue in the sky above us, spreading its brightness around.

The sun was setting. I'd been out for much too long, for what I had just intended to be a quick stroll outside. Darry might even be worrying about me now. It didn't take me long to reach a decision to stick around till at least after the sun had set. I cast him another side-glance. Dally was staring into empty space, his icy-blue eyes hard and his expression blank.

Nervously, I cleared my throat and spoke, not looking at him, "Hey, look, the sun's setting."

I didn't expect him to, so it didn't come of a surprise when he didn't respond. Hints of gold and crimson began to appear, making their way across the blue.

"Sure is pretty, huh?" I continued.

He didn't even look my way; only continued looking straight ahead. Desperate, I ploughed on with my talking to make him at least look up at the sky. It was what Johnny had wanted. This was the least I could do for him, to honor his memory.

"You know, Dally, Johnny –"

At the mention of Johnny's name, Dally jerked his head in my direction, facing me for the first time since I met him today. Something in his expression changed as he stared at me with wide, startled eyes. Somehow, seeing him react to Johnny's name like that, after not responding or speaking to me even when I tried to talk to him, made my heart skip beats. Maybe it was because of the _look_ on his face, the one that spelled out desperation, franticness and despair all over, but suddenly I couldn't keep from feeling my heart soar in excitement – I had finally managed to get through to Dally. I had to do this properly, to get this one right for Johnny.

He stared at me for a moment before speaking in a voice rougher than normal, "What about Johnny?"

The hoarseness of it startled me, and I stared at him for a moment before managing to regain my composure.

"He wrote me a note and put it in a book for the nurse to pass to me. He told me to ask you to look at a sunset," I said awkwardly, pointing my index finger up at the sky.

His brows furrowed, and he looked at me funny, but he looked up anyway.

"He also said that you'd probably think that I'm crazy, but that I should ask you for him anyway."

Dally made a noise from the back of his throat, but he didn't look away. The look of pure concentration on his face as he studied the oncoming golden-orange, for some reason, made me feel sad. There was something saddening about the way he was gazing intently at the sky, as if searching for an answer somewhere. I lowered my head, no longer wanting to see the streaks of gold.

And then there was this part of the note that I wasn't sure if he was trying to tell only me or to Dally as well. Reaching up with a hand to scratch the back of my neck, I said, as casually as I could, "And he told us to not be too bugged over being a greaser, and that we still have a lot of time to make ourselves be what we want. He said…he said for me to tell you, that there's still lots of good in the world. He doesn't think you know. And he wants you to know that, to understand that." The last sentence came out as a whisper.

When I lifted my head, Dally was looking at me like he'd never seen me before. I felt my cheeks and ears burn, and I buried my face in my hands, bending over to prop my elbows on my lap. Through the spaces between my fingers, I watched the grass sway in the light breeze. "He didn't regret it. He didn't regret saving those kids, even if it meant he was going to die. He believed that it was worth it. Dally, I…I don't think he knew you were going to do that after he passed on. I don't think Johnny knew you didn't want to live without him. And he told me to tell you it was worth it, him rescuing those kids. I couldn't believe it when it happened. When he just…went away like that. I couldn't believe it. Until now, I still can't."

My voice was too shaky for me to talk properly, but I pressed on anyway. I had to get this out, to let Dally know. My hands wouldn't stop trembling. I hadn't spoken about this to anyone. I hadn't wanted to. But this was Dally, the guy Johnny practically worshipped, the one who was gallant enough to try to cover our backs and protect us. Dallas Winston was his hero, and he had to know this, at least.

I drew in a sharp breath. "Look, what I'm sayin' is that you shouldn't regret it for him. It was what he wanted. Dally, he looked to you as his hero. He said you were gallant. Gallant and cool. And you are. You really are. He would have felt real awful about it if he knew what'd happened in the lot that night. You dig?"

The gold and red was blazing right across the sky, with no trace of blue left visible.

When I stood up from the bench, I pulled out the carefully folded note that Johnny had given me from my jeans pocket. I kept it with me everywhere I went. It was my last memento from him, but I figured Dally needed it more. Maybe he could even see the good in the world, maybe things would get better for him if he read it properly and felt the sincerity behind those words. Hesitating, I held it out to him, grasping it firmly between my thumb and index finger so that the wind couldn't blow it away.

He cocked an eyebrow at me, eying the note with an unreadable expression.

"It's the note Johnny wrote," I said softly, "I'm thinking it'd be good if you read it yourself. I'm giving it to you."

Slowly, he reached out for it and took it from me. I let out the breath that I'd been holding, and shoved my hands into my pockets. "I guess I'll be going now, then," I said tentatively, "See you around, Dally."

As I turned around to leave, rough fingers closed around my arm in a strong grip. I looked back over my shoulder, startled.

"Dally?"

He was looking down at the still-folded note in his right hand. Finally, he raised his head and faced me. For the first time in my life, I saw his hardened expression crack, revealing a hint of vulnerability on his face. It was an odd look on him. I'd only seen it once, in the hospital, after Johnny had passed away and right before he ran out. I didn't know what to do, and seeing him like this scared me.

"Thanks, Ponyboy," he said. None of the vulnerability was exposed in his voice – he sounded like how he normally did. "I'll look at them. The sunsets."

I nodded and forced a grin on my face. "Johnny – Johnny would have liked that."

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note: <strong>So, uh, this is my first Outsiders fan fiction. I'm not sure if I've kept them in character. Dally's character is hard to portray. But yeah, I tried. Thanks for reading. Please let me know what you thought of it? :D


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